


L'esprit de L'escalier

by haroo



Category: Fatal Twelve
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:06:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haroo/pseuds/haroo
Summary: AU. It's Rinka's birthday. And she's just met the most amazing girl.





	1. Prologue

The wooden ceiling stretches out forever in front of her as she stares up into the pitch blackness obfuscating the corners of the room. Mao’s next to her breathing steadily, the rhythmic in and out a comforting ambiance all its own. And her heart’s still pounding, a dull thudding echoing in her head. It’s the only anchor she has, the only thing that assures her that tonight wasn't just a dream.

Rinka covers her face with her hands, her lips curving up in a goofy smile behind her palms. Mao’s asleep; she can’t see her embarrassment, and even if she could she’d probably just assume the flush of Rinka’s cheeks was from the residual alcohol in her system. She digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She’s unable to widen her smile any more. Tonight was real. Rinka wants to tell Mao all about it, but she hasn’t exactly come out to her yet. She knows Mao doesn’t really care about anything all that much, but she can’t help the bit of anxiety that begins to surface every time she tries to bring it up. Mao’s her oldest friend, and Rinka doesn’t want her to start thinking differently of all the sleepovers they’ve had just because she’s attracted to girls. In spite of all her misgivings, that talk is probably going to have to happen sooner rather than later.

Memories from earlier flood her mind again. Her head’s still foggy from the drink, but she’s been replaying her thoughts so many times that she’s certain she can remember every detail. And it’s every detail that she wants to remember.

Tonight? Yeah. Tonight was real.

 

A thought crosses her mind then: it’s her birthday. And she’s just met the most amazing girl.


	2. Miharu

“It’ll be you and I,” Mao says, counting off on her fingers the people she’s naming, “the birthday girl, and one other friend. You’ll be off by nine tonight, right?” She curls her hand into a fist, a victorious gesture because whether or not Miharu wants to admit it, Mao’s going to find some way to talk her into going. “We’re meeting at the restaurant.”

Miharu inhales deeply. Her best friend isn’t listening to her. She never really does; once she gets into one of her moods it’s nigh impossible to change her mind. “You know I don’t like to be around people when they’re drinking.” She says this knowing it won’t actually have any effect. Mao’s well aware that Miharu has too many bad memories associated with alcohol, yet she’s still trying to convince her to go. Well, convincing is not quite right. Mao’s already decided _for_ her. “And besides, I don’t even know your friends,” Miharu adds. She’s only voicing her thoughts. It would be a one-sided conversation otherwise.

“Don’t worry. There’s not going to be a _lot_ of drinking.” Mao places her hands on her hips, paying no heed to the looks she’s receiving from the customers Miharu is supposed to be taking care of. The patrons don’t voice their displeasure though. It takes a lot of nerve for someone to waltz into a maid cafe so nonchalantly. Even more so to stop and chat with one of its servers. “Naomi isn’t old enough to drink yet, and the birthday girl’s probably only going to have one or two. Just one of those ‘because she can’ sort of things, you know?”

“Mao-”

“You’ll like my friends, Miharun. Trust me.” She says this with an annoyingly huge smirk. That smile is the only discernible expression in Mao’s otherwise impenetrable poker face. The pair have known each other since middle school, and Miharu knows her better than anyone else could, but even with that - even with Miharu’s clever wit - she has a hard time reading the other girl.

Oguma Mao has eyes that exude a consistent cheerfulness, and an overbearing confidence that overrides any of the slight body language that might give anyone else’s emotions away. That smirk is the one thing that offers a window into her true intentions. And it’s making Miharu nervous.

That expression of Mao’s isn’t the only thing making her uneasy though. Miharu knows that her friend has a tendency to plot things. Everything she does is done with good intentions, of course, but her plans don’t always work out quite as she pictured them.

In high school, she’d tried to help Miharu get closer to her long-time crush - a scheme that had resulted in disaster after disaster. Yet even after the first awkward experience Miharu found herself foolishly being coerced into the next one, and the next one, and the next. This foolishness resulted in what Miharu can only guess is an image of herself in her crush’s mind as this awkward, blundering idiot. And because nothing ever worked past the first step, Miharu’s lost all chance to chase that silly childhood dream. They’ve graduated now, and though finding her crush isn’t hard, Miharu doesn’t have the heart to try. She lost. It’s a bitter truth. One that she’s going to have to learn to live with.

“Anyways.” Mao’s voice snaps her out of her trance. She could probably sense that Miharu was tuning her out. “I need to stop somewhere and get a gift for the birthday girl.”

Miharu narrows her eyes at her. Why is she being so awkward about saying the girl’s name? She’s about to ask, but Mao saunters over to the exit without another word. Once again, Miharu’s been tricked into doing something that she doesn’t really want to do. That just leaves her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

The customers seem appreciative though, their grumbling scowls dissolving as Mao reaches the exit. A few of them turn to watch as she places a hand on the door, one or two of them tensing up when she stops just short of opening it. The entire cafe’s eyes are on her now, even Miharu’s boss who is likely going to have a few choice words with her later about allowing a friend to disrupt the work environment. Mao doesn't care, of course. She turns around and locks eyes with Miharu, speaking loud enough to be heard from the front. “Oh, by the way. The birthday girl is Shishimai Rinka.” Her lips curve up into a wicked grin, her eyes - as always - harbouring that same joyful energy. This is fun for her. Fun because she’s the only one who sees the way Miharu tenses up at that name, nearly dropping the serving tray she’s carrying. Fun because she’s the only one who is aware of what those words incite in her.

Mao knows. She knows that there’s nothing in this world that can stop Miharu from going to the party now.

After all, she is ever so foolish.


	3. Rinka

Mao’s late. Naomi’s on time, which is to be expected, but usually _Rinka’s_ the last one to arrive. Yet, twenty minutes have gone by with still no sighting of Mao. Rinka checks her phone again. The digital display remains the same as the last time she checked, as if time drags on at a snail’s pace just because it matters now. She isn't usually so impatient. Mao’s definitely not perfect, but she’s never been arrive-after-Rinka late. It’s only adding to her growing list of apprehensions about tonight.

Naomi seems to sense the way Rinka’s feeling and nervously chimes in with a suggestion. “Should I call her and see where she is?” There’s a hesitance to everything she says, a wariness that likely comes from low self-esteem. However, this time it’s clear that Naomi’s genuinely worried about Mao’s safety. It’s nighttime and they’re in a big city. Plenty could go wrong.

“She’ll show up,” Rinka says, feigning confidence to the best of her ability. She’d hate to admit it - to give credence to the thought’s validity - but she’s also concerned with Mao’s whereabouts. This is the most prevalent of her worries, and it’s making her stomach feel sick. She shifts her weight onto her other foot. Her back is to the restaurant while she and Naomi survey the street in search of Mao. “She _did_ say she was going to bring a friend along. Maybe her friend is taking a while to get ready?” Rinka adds as an afterthought. Having that to distract from the more macabrepossibilities calms her a bit.

Naomi clears her throat, which draws Rinka’s attention to her. She’s frowning, and her hands are fidgeting. Naomi isn't usually the type to voice her opinions if she thinks they might cause conflict. That doesn't mean she never speaks up about things that are bothering her. It’s just incredibly rare for her to do so, and always surprising. That’s why Rinka is taken aback when Naomi looks at her with a defiant expression. “T-The thing is… you don’t know this friend. And it’s _your_ birthday. I-It seems a bit inconsiderate and unfair of Mao to bring someone else along when we’re supposed to be hanging out with _you_.”

Rinka’s a bit confused. She doesn't see a problem with more people showing up at her birthday get-together. It’s strange to her that Naomi is so particular about this one specific detail, but Rinka shrugs it off. “I don’t really mind it,” she says. “The more the merrier.”

Naomi looks like she has more to add, but she’s interrupted when a familiar voice calls out to them from down the street.

“Sorry we’re late!” Mao’s grinning from ear to ear when Rinka turns around.

The girl she’s with is much taller than any of them, Rinka especially. Yet, that isn't the thing that most takes her off guard. It’s the way that Rinka’s heart jumps into her throat at the very sight of her.

_Oh no. I'm so gay._

Mao’s friend is tall and slender, with long blonde hair. She’s beautiful, the sort of attractive that gets scouted for magazine adverts - which could very well be the case since she looks so familiar for some reason. She looks nervous, and her face is tinted with a light red hue. It’s cute. And it’s making Rinka’s insides even more fluttery than they already were.

Mao holds one hand out, palm up as she gestures to her friend. “This is Mishima Miharu.”

“It’s nice to see you,” Miharu says. Her voice is a unique one, a bit more masculine than Rinka was expecting, but doubly more remarkable because of that.

Rinka’s face splits into a big, bright smile. It’s instinctive, and it makes her suddenly self-conscious about how silly she must look. Then Miharu’s words register. _‘It’s nice to_ see _you,’_ not _‘It’s nice to meet you.’_ The realisation that they must have met in passing hits her like a ton of bricks. What does she say? Rinka’s aware that she’s not the brightest person, but she’s absolutely certain that she would have remembered meeting someone so stunning. Convincing herself that this is just an oddly-worded courtesy is the route she takes, because she’s known Miharu for all of thirty seconds and she already has this inkling of a feeling that she’s going to want to keep the other girl in her life for a long time. And if _this_ is the aura that Miharu exudes then Rinka’s certain she would not have forgotten her. She still has to say _something_ though. “Oh, um… Are you a friend of Mao’s from university?” she asks, nearly stumbling over the words.

There’s a split second expression on Miharu’s face. She recovers from it so quickly that Rinka can’t make out what the emotion behind it is, but from the way Mao is looking up at her it seems she knows. She looks back to Rinka and says, “We _do_ go to school together, but-”

“Yes. I am,” Miharu interrupts. She smiles sweetly.

Whatever Mao was about to say is lost then because Miharu progresses the usual introductions by holding out a hand to shake.

Rinka looks down at it for a second, dumbly staring because the very idea of touching this girl’s hand makes her knees weak. But she’ll look like an idiot if she doesn't. Trembling, she forces herself to raise her own hand and slide it into Miharu’s. She’s warm. Comforting. Rinka feels like she might melt because Miharu’s skin is so soft. It’s causing her to worry about her own skin and how it must feel; she’s sure washing dishes all day has been rather unkind to her palms.

Rinka has to take a deep breath to steady herself, and then she realises that she’s lingered there for far too long. She jerks back, yanking her hand out of the other girl’s. “Oh!” There’s no explanation for any of it. What is she even supposed to say? _Way to not look like an idiot, Rinka._ Miharu looks hurt. Probably because Rinka has just reacted like she’s been burned. Now she’s beginning to think that holding Miharu’s hand for too long would have been a better way to embarrass herself. “Sorry. I'm awkward,” she adds, hoping that it might explain away the weird reaction.

“That you are.” Mao pats her on the shoulder lightly. “It’s okay,” she says. There’s a cat-like grin on her face. At first Rinka thinks it’s because she’s laughing at her stupidity, but that’s a one-of-a-kind Mischievous Mao grin. She’s up to something. Rinka doesn't know what, but she knows that whatever it is she’s going to have to keep a careful eye out.

“And you are?” Miharu asks, turning her attention towards Naomi.

Miharu’s expression isn't quite as warm as it was when she first introduced herself to Rinka. That makes her wonder if her reaction was actually hurtful. Regardless, Rinka’s glad she has a moment to take a breather and steel her nerves. She has to prepare herself for tonight, make sure something like _that_ doesn't happen again. Her eyes drift over to Miharu once more, examining her features as she’s introducing herself to Naomi. That was a bad idea, really. Now she’s all flustered. Doing something stupid again is almost certainly unavoidable at this point.

“Alright, birthday girl. Let’s go celebrate,” Mao says as she places her hands on Rinka’s shoulders. She leads her into the restaurant, the other two following behind.

Dinner happens in a stressful blur. They’re seated; Miharu’s sitting directly across from her, next to Mao, which places Naomi right next to her. This is preferable, as Rinka is certain she’d explode into a billion little pieces if she were to sit next to Miharu. That’s what she thinks at first. Thankfully, their orders are placed without much consequence - even nervous Rinka knows what she wants. However, everything seems to devolve after that.

Their drinks arrive in quick fashion. Rinka only ordered a water since their plan is to go to a bar after this. She wonders briefly if using a straw will seem childish of her, especially since today is her birthday, but she discards that idea. Naomi and Mao are using them as well, so she won’t be left out. Whether or not Miharu has used one is a mystery to her. She’s curious about the poised stranger, but she’s using every bit of her willpower not to look in Miharu’s direction. Rinka’s a bit worried they’ll catch each other in a look and she’ll make Miharu as uncomfortable as she did with the handshake.

Surprisingly, not looking at Miharu isn't as hard as she feared it would be. Mao’s presence alone makes the event lively. And the story she’s telling right now has Rinka enraptured. She leans forward to take a sip of her water, confused when she doesn't find her straw right away. Rinka sits back a bit to look at her glass and realises that her straw’s on the other side. She’s just been fishing around with her mouth in empty seas.

_I hope Miharu didn't-_

That thought dies along with her last shred of dignity.

Miharu is looking at her from across the table, her expression reading only as appalled to Rinka. Now that Miharu knows how awkward she is, she’s probably offended that she had to waste her time coming to Rinka’s birthday get-together. It’s the only explanation her frazzled mind can come with. On top of this already depressing reality, another jarring thought hits her. By sitting across from each other it means that Miharu gets to see every dumb little thing Rinka is sure to do. Sitting next to her, she thinks, would have been better. At this point she wishes she _could_ explode into a billion little pieces.

Rinka tries to say something, anything to diffuse the situation, but what comes out instead is a disgruntled sound. Naomi looks at her, concern evident in her eyes, but Rinka just waves it off.

After that, Rinka finds herself being hyper-aware of every little thing she does. Like chewing. Chewing has never taken her so long in her life. She’s just worried she’ll start speaking while there’s food in her mouth, or she’ll get something stuck in her teeth - all the things she wouldn't really care about if it were just the three of them.

She also can’t help the inescapable feeling that Miharu keeps looking at her. That worries her more thanks to the incident with the straw, but there’s also this underlying hope. This subtle _“What if?”_ and _“Could something come of this?”_. It’s only a slight notion though. For the most part she’s just concerned that her being so overly conscious of what she’s doing might manifest in awkward movement or in her pulling weird faces at the girl sitting across from her. The only salvation she has from this personal hell she’s built for herself is the knowledge that Mao would most likely call her out if she noticed Rinka was doing something silly.

“So, Rinka,” Mao says, looking directly at her.

Rinka nearly chokes on her food. “Yes?” she gasps when she manages to swallow it down. It’s as if her worst fears have come to life. But Mao’s expression says it’s something else entirely. Just a really unfortunate coincidence.

“I left your gift at my house. I don’t really want to interrupt the night for it, so why don’t you and Miharu go ahead to the bar and Naomi and I will go fetch it?”

Nobody really seems to hear Naomi’s protests. Miharu has a wide-eyed look on her face, and she’s staring at Mao as if she’s demanding an explanation. Mao just looks like she’s told the world’s best joke and she’s smugly waiting for the laughter. Rinka on the other hand can’t seem to hear anything over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears.

“Um, excuse me?” Naomi says a bit louder. She’s forcing herself to be heard, to be acknowledged. “Why do I have to go? Why don’t you and Miharu go back and I’ll stay here with Rinka? It’s _your_ gift, after all. I have mine in my bag.”

It isn't like she and Mao aren't good friends. Naomi’s not trying to stay behind because she doesn't like Mao. Really, it’s just logic. Miharu and Rinka don’t actually know each other, whilst Naomi is here specifically to spend time with Rinka. With all that in mind, Mao’s proposal is a bit odd.

“I've dragged Miharu around all day. I’d feel bad if I didn't give her a break from following me everywhere.” Mao tilts her head to one side, her eyes trained on Naomi. There’s something more to it. Like she’s trying to say something without words. Rinka isn't fluent in subtlety though, so it flies right past her. “It’s dark and scary out too. What if I get kidnapped?” Mao pouts. “I haven’t been able to speak with you much yet either, Naorin.”

That last part simply isn't true. While they've been eating the pair have been chattering on about their day like always. Rinka isn't usually the talkative type, but her nerves are all shot with Miharu around so she’s been even more quiet than usual. And whether or not Miharu shares this particular personality feature isn't clear, but she’s been quiet as well. There’s also the chance that she simply isn't comfortable around Rinka and Naomi yet, but it doesn't change how little she’s spoken up to this point.

Rinka finds herself hoping Naomi will acquiesce. She finds herself desperately wanting to spend some alone time with Miharu - even though they don’t know each other, even though she’s just some cute girl that probably isn't even gay. Even worse, their personalities could clash. She doesn't know why she feels like this either. Sure, Rinka’s liked girls before; that’s how she figured out her identity. Things just seem a bit different with Miharu. There’s this intense pull towards the other girl, like spending time with her is somehow the most important thing in the world and she hasn't figured out why yet. Maybe this is love at first sight. Or maybe she’s just desperate.

Naomi’s face puffs up. She looks as if she wants to say more, wants to argue her point further, but to Rinka’s surprise and delight she blows out all the air in her cheeks and nods. “I’ll go with you.”

For the remainder of their stay at the restaurant, everyone is quiet. The others are probably contemplating what they’re going to do, what going separate ways means for them. As for Rinka, the only thing she can think about is being alone with Miharu. She wants to make up for all the awkward things she’s done tonight. She wants Miharu to like her.

Mao pays for the bill. Rinka doesn't even know if she has a job or not - it’s never come up - but this is a part of her gift to Rinka. Naomi and Miharu just manage to also reap the benefits of it.

 _Now if only I could get her to pay for her coffee when she comes by Lion House,_ Rinka thinks to herself. She’s standing outside with Naomi. Miharu stayed back with Mao for whatever reason, and it’s making her feel uneasy. Not that she stayed back, but that Miharu and Mao are making them wait again. This leaves a lot of room for Rinka’s anxious thoughts to start slipping through the cracks. Because her mind’s so preoccupied, there’s nothing that she can think to say to Naomi. That makes her feel a bit bad, since Rinka knows she doesn't even want to get dragged off by Mao in the first place.

Naomi glances over to her and Rinka offers an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” Mao says when she exits the restaurant. She doesn't offer any explanation for what took them so long. Miharu looks a bit sick, her face is red and she seems a bit shaken up. That has Rinka worried for a number of reasons. “Let’s go, Naorin. I don’t want to take too long. It’d be bad if we had to cut our night short.”

Rinka waves goodbye to her two friends. They’re gone so fast that she doesn't really feel any sense of departure. They’re just there one moment and gone the next. Though once their absence settles in, she’s reminded that she’s alone with a stranger. No, not any stranger. She’s alone with _Miharu_.

Another thought rushes into her head right after that, and she finds that she doesn't really care about looking cool right now. There are more pressing matters at hand. “Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

The colour of Miharu’s face has mostly returned to normal, but she doesn't look totally fine yet. It’s not even that she looks sick per se. There’s just something off about her current demeanour.

Miharu tilts her head down, hiding behind her fringe. “I'm fine.” Her voice trembles, her reassurance unconvincing.

Rinka takes a few tentative steps closer to her. Miharu’s much taller than she is, so closing in like this and looking up at her is the only way Rinka can get a clear view of her face. Her eyes are screwed shut, so she doesn't notice yet. “You don’t _look_ fine. We don’t have to go straight to the bar if you don’t want to. We can find somewhere to sit down until you’re feeling better. Or I can walk you home.” Rinka says that last bit with a tinge of sadness. She doesn't want Miharu to go so soon, but she also really doesn't want her to stick around if something’s wrong. “Food poisoning, maybe?” she adds in the hopes that it will prompt more of a response.

Miharu opens her eyes, which then shoot wide open when she realises how close Rinka is. She takes a few long strides backward, her hands darting up to cover her face. Miharu’s mumbling to herself, just quiet enough that Rinka can’t make out any of the words. She takes a deep breath. And then another. And then another. Finally, she looks back up at Rinka. “If you’d like, I wouldn't mind sitting down somewhere for a bit with you. I'm not sick, just…” She doesn't finish the sentence. Rinka tries to encourage her with a look, but Miharu only stares back at her. It seems pointless to try to figure out what she was going to say.

“Sure. I think there’s a place on the way.”

Rinka walks in stride with Miharu, their pace leisurely, slow, like they have nowhere else to be. It’s hard not to notice the way they seem to purposefully hold each other back. Or the flutter in Rinka’s chest every time their arms brush or their hands bump. There’s more room on the pavement, they don’t have to walk so close. But there’s no explanation. It doesn't feel like there needs to be. There’s just a quiet hope. And it’s driving Rinka crazy.

There’s an air about this moment. It feels life-changing in some odd way. Like finding your new favourite song and listening through it for the first time, hearing the cadences, learning the melodies. Those few minutes move so slowly as you savour them. It’s new, unique, something that can only be experienced once, even if there are many more moments like this later on down the road. And it evokes something within you. Something that says: _this moment is perfect. This is just right. This is exactly where and when I belong._

This is how Rinka feels as she examines her surroundings, absorbing the memory within herself. The trees planted artfully along the pavement, their crisp leaves colourless against the backdrop of the night sky. The streetlamps coating their path in a warm glow, a comforting hue that tints everything in sight. It’s something that she witnesses all the time, but it’s different now. She doubts she’ll ever see this view the same way again. Miharu’s here with her. They’re experiencing all of these hidden beauties together. _Together._

Rinka’s lips curve up in a small smile. She likes the sound of that. Objectively, she doesn't even know Miharu, couldn't guess her favourite movie or if she reads books. She just has this inexplicable attraction to her. Miharu is someone that she wants - no, _needs_ \- in her life. Even if that turns out to be platonically. There’s just something about her. Something yet to be unlocked.

Suddenly, Miharu stops. Rinka’s a few steps ahead of her when she’s ripped from her dreamy, romantic escapist fantasy. She’s confused. Curious if Miharu’s okay since she seemed ill earlier, concerned that she’d felt awkward after all with Rinka walking so close to her.

Miharu’s eyes look sad, but she’s got a smile on her face. She gets closer to Rinka once more - a seemingly innocuous action that drives her nerves wild. Then, Miharu reaches out and taps her on the shoulder. “You’re it.”

Rinka inhales sharply. Miharu has just touched her, just bypassed the skim of contact that felt uncertain before and directly _touched_ \- “Wait. What?”

Miharu responds by smiling, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as her expression widens. It feels rare. It’s only a hunch, but this sort of smile feels out of place on her. That isn't to say it looks bad or anything. Quite the contrary, in fact. “Haven’t you ever played tag?” Miharu asks as she begins to back away slowly.

Rinka’s still dumbfounded, but her brain is beginning to catch up. Just as it’s about to, she finds herself being distracted. Miharu’s one-of-a-kind smile makes her ears hot. She’s smiling _at_ Rinka. That feels like something worth being prideful of. And all of this over a silly little game of tag.

_Tag?!_

The thought finally registers, and as it does Miharu makes a break for it. She runs along the path they’d just come from with Rinka now chasing after her. Miharu has the advantage of longer legs, but Rinka isn't about to let her get away.

Miharu slows down a bit, allowing Rinka to get closer. This is it. Rinka’s about to tag her. She reaches her hand out, but before she can achieve her goal, Miharu stops and spins around on her heel, putting an abrupt halt to their game and nearly causing Rinka to barrel into her.

Miharu’s smiling still, bigger this time. “When I was little I used to play tag at the park with a girl around my age,” she says. That hint of sadness returns to her eyes, causing her smile to falter. The expression lingers for another second before her lips fade into a straight line. She isn't outright frowning, but it’s clear that something’s bothering her. “Have you ever done that? When you were little, I mean.”

“Play tag with a stranger?” Rinka is still trying to catch her breath. There’s a pain in her side that’s a bit disappointing seeing as they haven’t actually run very far. It’s almost offensive how Miharu hasn't even batted an eye at their miniature workout. But… it’s also kind of _hot_. She swallows, forcing her attention back to the question at hand. “Probably.” It sounds familiar, sure, but all kids do that. That’s how kids make friends. “If I did, I guess they didn't leave a lasting impression. I only really have vague memories of my childhood.” Rinka isn't actually sure if that part is due to her being forgetful in general, but she doesn't really want to talk about her accident right now. Then this entire experience will just become a pity party, and she’s had enough of those.

Miharu clenches her teeth, her jaw making that distinctive twitch. “I don’t suppose I know many people who have an excellent recollection of their childhood.” She smiles wryly. Then she laughs. It appears that she’s having another conversation in her mind, one Rinka’s not invited to. “None of that matters though. What’s important is the here and the now. It’s your birthday.” She breaks into a different kind of smile, a real one. A comforting one. Her eyes look wet, but there’s nothing otherwise to indicate that she’s anything but happy. And she looks _so_ happy.

Rinka wants her to stay that way. Whatever’s bothering her or been on her mind since leaving the restaurant… Rinka just wants to make all that go away. She wants to protect her from the things that haunt her.

“It’s your birthday,” Miharu says again. She shrugs and holds her hands out, her palms facing up. “It’s nighttime, and we have all of Tokyo to ourselves. What’s the first thing you want to do?”

Rinka laughs. Maybe she’s not the only romantic here tonight. _Wait, what am I thinking? Miharu’s just Mao’s friend. She’s a little quirky, but she’s not… she isn't, right? That would just be too convenient. But speaking of quirky…_ She takes a step closer. Even if she’s confused and can’t fathom a way to answer Miharu’s question, she’s still going to tag her. No one’s going to get the last laugh on her birthday except _her_. Rinka takes another step closer, and another. She reaches out, ready to tag Miharu, but the other girl doesn't budge. It takes Rinka by surprise. They were walking until they weren't. Then they were playing tag, and now they’re not. Tonight feels less like a normal night and more like the scattered fragments of a dream. If that’s the case, she doesn't mind not waking up. Rinka looks up at Miharu, searching for any indication of what she’s supposed to do next, and her throat goes dry.

Miharu’s only staring back at her, eyes half-lidded. Her shoulders are rising and falling with deep breaths; her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. She lets it go to say something, but the words never come. Instead, she stands there silently, her lips parted just a touch.

Every single fibre of Rinka’s body is on fire. Every nerve connected to her brain is overloading, going haywire and firing off signals that don’t make any sense to her. She wants to kiss Miharu. There’s a feeling in the pit of her stomach that’s telling her she should, that they’re standing ever so close and if this were a movie it would be the moment the protagonist’s whirlwind romance begins. She _really_ wants to kiss Miharu. But this isn't a movie. It’s real life. And they've only just met. It wouldn't be justifiable for Rinka to make a move on her, not knowing if Miharu is even _like that_ or if such a move would be unwelcome.

Rinka also knows she’s probably only really feeling this way because Miharu is attractive and she’s gay and for some reason she falls in love with every other girl that looks at her for more than two seconds. But this doesn't feel like that. She can’t explain why this is different, or if it truly is any different. Either way, it’s driving Rinka absolutely mad. It’s the right atmosphere, but it wouldn't be right. For a lot of reasons. Rinka just has to keep reminding herself of that.

“Do you dance?” Miharu asks. It’s another random question, another bizarre thing that throws Rinka for a loop. “I've never really…” She takes a big step back, putting distance between herself and Rinka.

“I do sometimes when I'm cleaning my room.” Rinka takes her own step backwards. They probably look awkward to anyone who might be watching them. She feels bad too. She feels like she’s made Miharu wildly uncomfortable, and she knows that if she were in that situation with anyone else on the planet she’d probably feel uncomfortable too. Or maybe Miharu’s just awkward and weird and totally not whatever this image of her is that Rinka’s been putting together throughout the night. “I've never danced with another person,” she adds. Who cares if Miharu’s a bit eccentric? She’s fun. That’s all Rinka can think. Whatever all of this is adding up to, it’s fun.

“Maybe we should change that.”

Rinka almost doesn't hear her. Quiet as they were, those words sent enormous ripples through her, echoing in her head. To her own surprise, Rinka doesn't falter when she gives her response, “Yeah. Maybe we should.”

She isn't sure what she's doing when she closes the distance between herself and Miharu. She doesn't initiate anything - it’s better if Miharu leads with what she’s comfortable with - so the two just stand there, awkwardly gazing into each other’s eyes again.

Miharu chuckles in a breath. She doesn't move back this time, instead she looks away. “We don’t have any music,” she says, not realising the song her very presence composes within Rinka.

It’s a jumble of chords, a fluttering of strings reverberating in her chest. It’s the percussion of a thumping heartbeat in her ears, the slew of thoughts barraging her and spilling out into a lyrical mess. Rinka knows the song. It’s the way Miharu makes her feel. She doesn't quite understand it. Doesn't get why she’s willing to throw herself into all of these little games, but she knows the song.

Rinka reaches out and takes Miharu’s hand, guiding it to her shoulder. Miharu looks shocked, but she mirrors it with her other hand, almost as if on instinct. There’s still a great deal of space between them as Rinka places her hands on Miharu’s waist, and their dance is awkward, stiff. They’re only making a small circle, not really putting much effort into making this look natural. They aren't even really looking at each other, save for a few shy glances. Still, it makes Rinka feel like she’s going to melt into a puddle on the ground. With how hot her face is getting right now, she seriously feels like that’s a possibility. She has to make this less… whatever it is. And quick.

Rinka starts exaggerating her movements, swaying way out to the left and right, which causes Miharu to follow suit. The pair probably look more akin to cartoon characters now than a couple dancing in the moonlight. They both dissolve into a fit of laughter, finally letting go of each other. Rinka finds herself missing the contact, but hearing Miharu laugh is worth it.

Rinka’s still laughing when she pulls her phone out of her pocket. It’s a text message from Mao, asking where the hell they are. “Oh, we've got to go,” she says.

“What, already?” Miharu whines. It’s playful. She’s cute.

“Come on,” Rinka rolls her eyes. Her hand naturally reaches for Miharu’s to tug her along. She’s nervous that she’s overstepped her boundaries, but Miharu doesn't let go.


	4. Miharu

_“Don’t forget me… Not again.”_

Miharu clutches her house key tighter in her hand, causing the metal to press painfully against the flesh of her palm. Her anxiety manifests itself in her mind as a toxic ooze that drips down the walls of this narrow hallway, creeping up on her - always on her heels, always just out of reach.

_“I wanted to see you again. I waited for so long on graduation day, but you never came.”_

All the things she should have said to Rinka flood her mind, a cacophony of rehearsed statements covered in dust and cobwebs, having lain dormant and never voiced for lack of courage or opportunity. Miharu wishes she could have told Rinka everything she’s held within herself when they were alone, but she knows it would have been pointless. None of it would have made any sense to her. After all, Miharu is just a misplaced memory in Rinka’s past. And besides, there’s no guarantee that putting herself on display would make it hurt less. If anything, it might make things worse.

Miharu finally reaches the end of the hall. With practised ease, she slots her key in the door and twists the lock, narrowly evading the grasp of the anxiety monster as she enters her apartment and shuts the door behind her. _I should be thankful that I'm getting a fresh start after all of Mao’s crazy antics… But still…_ She slips out of her shoes by the door and looks around. There’s no television blaring loudly, no empty whisky bottles scattered like tethered ghosts. There’s no immediate yelling as she walks in, or complaints slid under the door from passive aggressive neighbours.

Miharu still hasn't gotten used to living on her own. A part of her still expects things to go right back to how they were before. But they don’t. No, having a fresh start isn't necessarily bad. She can apply that to her situation with Rinka too. Admittedly, the idea of second chances is kind of nice. It just doesn't negate the hurt that comes with being so insignificant and easily forgotten.

_“If I did, I guess they didn't leave a lasting impression. I only really have vague memories of my childhood.”_

She winces, the remnants of anxiety still carrying a powerful sting. The once-cherished quiet of her new home is overwhelmed by Rinka’s words from the other night. With the vacancy of sound no longer her sanctuary, Miharu crumbles onto the cold floor. She pulls her legs to her chest, hugging them for even the smallest comfort in her loneliness.

That little game of ‘tag’ she’d initiated the other night had been an attempt to rouse some of Rinka’s old memories, to make Rinka _see_ her. And it had been all for naught. The memories they’d shared as children - of playing together in the park - the memories of Miharu bashfully approaching her in high school, all of those things had been so inconsequential to Rinka as to not have left a lasting impression. Was that true for the other night as well? Would Rinka so easily forget that, just as she had their youth?

The loud vibrating of her phone on the wooden floor startles Miharu out of her self-loathing trance. She isn't too terribly inclined to use the device - her only texts and calls are from Mao setting up plans or from one of her co-workers needing their shift covered, neither of which are things she wants to do right now - but there’s an urge to check it. Perhaps it is her last buoy of optimism, gently guiding her to safety.

Miharu opens the text message from Mao to find a single string of numbers. There are no words to accompany it. Words aren't needed. She holds her thumb down on the text until a prompt opens, asking if she would like to save the number as a new contact. Once the numbers have a meaning to her phone, she fires off a quick message - no hesitation, no thinking. If she doesn't do it now, she’s going to lose her nerve.

_Hey Rinka. Mao gave me your number. It’s Miharu. :)_

Immediately upon sending it out she stares at the glaring mistake. A smiley face. It’s too forward. She should have been more casual. What if that combination of symbols spills out all her feelings, tells Rinka how desperate she is to see her again?

Miharu pinches the bridge of her nose. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Waiting for a response is, not surprisingly, unbearable. She switches back to Mao’s message and sends a reply in the hopes of occupying her mind before her nerves can get the best of her. _“You didn't have to do that.”_

The response arrives in under a minute. That’s typical of Mao though. _“I could sense you being pensive again, Miharun. Did you text her?”_

 _“Of course I did,”_ Miharu begins to type. However, there’s something more she needs to say. She attempts to finish her message, stops, erases the addition, and then starts again. For some reason, nothing she types feels like enough. And too long of an explanation makes her feel more vulnerable than she’s comfortable with. Finally, she settles on two words: _“Thank you.”_

 _“Hm? For what?”_ Mao responds. It may be through text, but Miharu gets the feeling that Mao is genuinely curious. She doesn't know what she’s being thanked for, nor does she realise the incredible meaning behind what she’s done.

This time Miharu’s words flow easily. _“Without you I would have never been able to spend those special moments with her. I may have never even been able to speak to her again. For that, I owe you.”_ Miharu knows Mao’s probably laughing at her on the other end of town, but it’s how she feels. Nothing she could do would ever show Mao the extent of her gratitude. That’s just what Rinka means to her.

_“Don’t worry about it. There’s just one thing though. Remember what I told you in the restaurant about Rinka being forgetful? Well, there’s more to it than that.”_

The restaurant... An unpleasant memory resurfaces: Rinka, seeing her again after so long, seeming confused at her familiar greeting, and then appearing to have forgotten Miharu entirely. It hadn't been the first time Rinka had failed to remember her existence, but after all the built up pining she'd held for the other girl, it hurt more. Probably sensing her hurt, Mao had pulled her aside after the birthday dinner to speak with her about it. To reassure her that Rinka was just generally forgetful, and that she shouldn't dwell on any lapses in recollection.

So of course when Mao suggests that there’s more information on the matter, Miharu’s curiosity is piqued. _“What do you mean?”_

Miharu stares at the screen for a long time, flicking her thumb over it when it begins to go dim. Mao’s replies are usually quick. She’s always on her cellphone, but now, when she’s got Miharu’s undivided attention, she seems to be nowhere near it. The third time the screen goes dark, Miharu lets the device sleep and sets it back down on the floor next to her head. She lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Could what Mao has to tell her explain away the pain? Could it make up for the years she’d spent plagued with yearning for a girl who would come to forget her anyway?

Miharu’s phone vibrates again, causing her to scramble to see Mao’s reply. Her stomach lurches into her throat when she sees the response, because it isn't a reply from Mao at all.

_“Hey Miharu! :) I'm sorry I didn't reply earlier. Work got busy! Haha :) What are you up to? :) I hope you've been well? :)”_

Miharu stares at the message in disbelief. “And I made such a big deal about a single smile,” she says aloud to the empty apartment. The reality settles in that this is a message from _Rinka_ , and suddenly she’s bursting with her own plethora of internal smiles. Miharu emits a close-mouthed squeal and rolls around on the floor, her phone still clutched in her outstretched hand. She stops suddenly and sits up on her elbows, her thumbs hovering over the digital keyboard as she tries to think of a proper response. Miharu’s face feels hot right now, and there’s no doubt that she’s blushing like mad.

 _“I've been well. How about yourself?”_ she types. Miharu pauses, biting her lip. There’s a lot she wants to say. _“I've just gotten off work myself. You work at a café_ _, right? I think Mao mentioned it.”_ That’s not entirely true. It’s more like they've spoken about it before, but Miharu has known for years that Rinka works and lives at Lion House with her grandmother. She’s thought about going in before Mao invited her to Rinka’s birthday party, posing under the guise of consumerism in order to speak to her. But it felt wrong. It felt predatory and dishonest and exactly the opposite of how Miharu wants Rinka to see her. _“Maybe I could swing by sometime?”_ she adds, hoping that Rinka might want to see her again too.

By the time Miharu’s phone vibrates again, she’s already started on dinner. She reaches across the small kitchenette to grab her phone, being careful all the while to keep the wooden spoon held over the pot lest she splatter spaghetti sauce all over the place.

It’s Rinka again. Her heart flutters at that. Miharu’s not sure she’ll ever get used to the excitement of a new message from her. _“Yes! You should definitely come by sometime. :) I just closed up shop for tonight though. I think Mao’s coming by tomorrow if you want to come over too. :)”_ As Miharu finishes reading the last sentence another message from Rinka comes in. _“Oh, I forgot to say it’s called Lion House. You can probably get directions from Mao since mine will just get you lost. :(“_

That’s another thing Miharu might never get used to: the abundant use of emoticons. It would probably be annoying if Mao did the same thing, but from Rinka it’s super adorable. She turns her attention back to her cooking, embarrassed by how hard it is to stop smiling. Miharu’s alone in the apartment, but that somehow makes it worse.

She makes sure she isn't burning her food and then messages Rinka back, _“Sure, I’ll ask Mao.”_ Or just text her to let her know what Miharu’s agreed to. Just because she’s never gone into the little café, doesn't mean she hasn't gone out of her way to pass by it. So asking for directions is meaningless.  _“I'm looking forward to trying some of your coffee. :)”_ She takes a page from Rinka’s book and adds the little smiley face, hoping against her insecurity that Rinka will feel just as delighted and giddy to see it as Miharu does when she’s on the receiving end.

After sending the message, Miharu opens the conversation with Mao. The screen says that she’s still typing her response, so Miharu decides to wait rather than risk distracting Mao from the topic at hand. She finishes making her dinner and plates it. When Miharu sits down to eat, her heart is still pounding out of control from the excitement of texting her childhood crush. Her hands are shaking so much that bringing the food to her mouth feels unnatural. She doesn't really feel hungry anymore either. It seems she’s filled up on butterflies before dinner. In spite of that, Miharu makes herself eat. She knows she’s going to be too nervous for breakfast in the morning, and she doesn't want to pass out tomorrow or anything.

Rinka messages her back right around the time she’s finishing her meal. _“Great! I'm looking forward to seeing you again! :D”_

The new type of hyper-excited emoticon makes up for the short message, but it would be dishonest of Miharu to say she hadn't hoped for something more. Not that she isn't incredibly grateful to be speaking to Rinka _at all_ . It’s just that she wants to _keep_ talking to her. Miharu wants to know everything about her. From her favourite things to the more abstract, like how she feels when she’s alone or her thoughts on the universe. She tells herself that there will be more time for that. Patience is her one strength, after all. And in Rinka’s eyes they've only just met.

Miharu rereads the message again, still in disbelief that she actually just had a conversation with the one person who always seemed so unavailable to her. Then, she spots it. It creeps up on her, makes her breathing laboured.

_I'm_ _looking forward to seeing you again!_

Miharu’s a pessimist. That’s always been the case. She’s never really had anything worth looking forward to in life, besides the few instances where Fate has decided to pepper her existence with the presence of one immensely wonderful and below-average-height individual, but those were always random occurrences. Never something she could hope too hard for. It only seemed to be Fate teasing her just enough to make her want to remain on this planet. So when she notices the words, _really_ notices them, she can’t believe she’s not dreaming.

Miharu’s suddenly filled with a surge of emotion and energy. She wants to jump up in the air or dance around. Anything to quell the overflowing happiness that she’s not used to. Instead, she chooses to reread the message over again. Like she needs proof, needs to make sure that she didn't misread, or that the words don’t change before her very eyes. They don’t. They’re real. Fate’s telling her that there’s hope yet to be had. She hasn't arrived at the end of this story just yet.

Miharu’s natural instinct is to remind herself to be realistic, that though Rinka’s words ignite fireworks within her, the words aren't meant in the same way that they would be coming from Miharu. However, that inclination doesn't surface. It doesn't matter how the words are meant. Rinka wants to see _her_ again. It’s one of the few things she’s ever really wanted in life. And there isn't a thing in the world that can bring Miharu down now.

After reading the message one last time she begins to clean up after her meal. Her thoughts are consumed with Rinka, with the chance that one day Miharu could invite her over to cook for her, with the idea of having another spontaneous adventure through the Tokyo streets at night. She’s smiling the whole time, so much so that her cheeks begin to hurt. Miharu doesn't even hear it when her phone vibrates again.

When she goes to pick up the device it’s initially only to reread her entire chat log with Rinka. So she’s surprised when she finds that Mao has finally texted her back. Truthfully, Miharu had completely forgotten about the exchange, but now she’s expecting a long message - some kind of explanation into why Rinka’s memory is bad, or into something else that might be relevant. Her stomach churns when she opens the text, threatening to expel the meal she’d just managed to finish. Of what she’d expected, Miharu received the latter. The message that Mao has been, for whatever reason, spending so much of her time trying to write out was nothing more than a single sentence. A single line of text that holds a bounty of haunting implications.

_“Do you remember that train accident in our last year of high school?”_


	5. Rinka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the especially long wait on this one. To make a long and unnecessary story short, it was out of my control. I know that a plethora of stories from other fandoms get abandoned all the time, and I don't want anyone to think that's the case if something comes up again. So, if you have a tumblr feel free to follow me (m-haroo). I only really post Fatal Twelve things there, as well as new chapters for this story. You're welcome to message me if you have any questions. I will get back to you as soon as I see it. Lastly, I'd like to thank everyone for their patience.

_ “I’m on my way! See you soon. :)” _

 

The corners of Rinka’s mouth twitch, reaching up for a smile. Reaching just as she wants to reach out—to feel Miharu’s fingers laced between hers again. It’s accompanied by a subtle ache, a dull pressure pushing against her windpipe. She’s longed to see Miharu again, to once again feel a renewed optimism expanding in her chest. The tickling static of her ballooning feelings makes her giddy, makes her believe that maybe—just maybe—she has a chance to chase what she’d missed out on in her high school years, before self-discovery became a necessity for self-preservation. There’s also this small flicker of hope that she can finally experience the comfort of companionship and, if she’s lucky, plant the seed that will eventually blossom into love.

 

Rinka imagines the rise and fall of her excitement whenever Miharu texts her as a movie. It plays in a dark, crowded cinema: a bittersweet film that always begins with a doe-eyed Rinka, lured away by the encouraging prospect of just one potential outcome. Her naivety blinds her to the most likely paths at first, but by the end Rinka begins to doubt herself. She doubts the validity of her feelings and whether she should even consider pursuing Miharu at all. Luckily, that thought hasn't crossed her mind yet. She's at the climax of the story, a huge grin plastered across her face as she thinks of what may come next.

 

“Hmm?”

Mao draws Rinka’s attention away from her phone. Her eyes are narrowed in a way that says she can smell some bit of gossip or inform ation that’s worth her time.

“What are you grinning about?” she asks, an impish smile at the corners of her own lips.

 

“O-Oh, it’s nothing.”

Rinka slides her phone back into the front pocket of her apron and spins on her heel, making a big show of cleaning the counter and shelves behind her. She’s developed a tendency to drop everything she’s doing just to check when she gets a new text. She can’t always reply right away, like when she has customers, but she checks incessantly if she suspects an incoming message from Miharu. Her regulars can tell that there’s something different about her. A few have commented that she doesn’t typically use her phone so whoever she’s texting is “one lucky guy,” and others have asked to hear about Rinka’s “boyfriend.” She always tries to explain things away, but if even her customers are noticing changes, then so has Mao.

 

Rinka hasn’t talked to her about everything yet—about her sexuality and how she feels about Miharu—so she isn’t sure what Mao  _ thinks _ she knows, but there’s no doubt she senses something between them. She’s still hesitant, still nervous about what Mao or Naomi might think of the times they’ve spent the night at each other’s houses, but her feelings for Miharu are clearly real at this point. It's not one of those passing crushes that happen when Rinka's desperate inexperience is met with the attention of a pretty girl. Rink a doesn’t really want to admit that she’s entertained pursuing a relationship, but she has. And if there’s even the slightest chance that something might happen between the two of them, she doesn’t want Naomi or Mao to feel betrayed by the lack of foresight. Even if Rinka’s feelings for Miharu—intense, growing more every day, and wildly confusing—aren’t returned, they’re important.

 

They matter, even if it’s only to coax herself out of this closet she’s been trapped in for as long as she can remember.

“You know what, Mao?”

 

Mao looks up from her phone. It’s odd of her to give up pestering Rinka for information so quickly, but she’d probably just gotten distracted.

“Hm?”

 

“I’m—”

Rinka’s throat tightens around the word, clutching it until it’s smothered out of existence.  _ I should probably wait until Naomi’s here to tell her. It’d be easier to say it all at once.  _ She knows that’s not the only reason, though. Coming out to someone who has known her for so long is scary. Even if she wants to—no, even if she  _ needs _ to—it’s not that easy. One word could change the dynamic of their friendship forever. Nothing about Mao suggests she’ll stop being Rinka’s friend, but what if she begins to think differently of Rinka? No more sleepovers, no more summertime beach excursions. And what about Naomi? They’ve known each other for even less time. What if Naomi hates her for it?

 

Mao tilts her head to one side, that mischievous expression from earlier returning to her face.

“It’s okay, Rinny. I know.”

 

“What?!” Rinka only barely holds back the panic forcing its way up her stomach, along with her breakfast. She feels cold all of a sudden, her legs weak. Nervously, she glances over her shoulder.

 

“That you’re excited for Miharu to come over?” Mao leans back in her chair, stretching her arms out over her head. “You were just texting her, right?”

 

Where the panic and fear had just been, disappointment fills the gaping void.

“Oh.”

There’s probably something empowering about coming out, especially so if you’re accepted for who you are, but Rinka still sort of wishes she didn’t have to. It’d be nice if Mao could just  _ know _ she likes girls.

“Yeah, that was a text from Miharu. She’s on her way,” Rinka says as she gets back to her work.

 

“Right.” Mao hums softly. “Do you like her, Rinny?”

 

“Huh?”

She tightens her hold on the cleaning cloth she’s using and scrubs the counter down more fervently. It doesn’t help to settle her nerves, but she hopes it at least hides how taken aback she is. She had just been thinking that she wished Mao knew, but she didn’t realise how shaken up she’d be to have it thrown out into the open so nonchalantly. Then again, this is Mao.

 

“I’m just curious.”

There’s a playfulness to Mao’s voice. Somehow, this makes everything she says more unsettling. When Rinka doesn’t reply right away, Mao continues, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with me bringing a friend to your birthday party. So I was just wondering what you thought of her.”

 

Rinka exhales a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her nerves can’t take this constant rollercoaster of anxiety. Still, whatever this conversation leads to, it could potentially be a precursor to her coming out, a way to ease her in so the thought of it doesn’t make her so nervous.

“Miharu’s cool.”

She drops the cleaning cloth into a plastic tub of solution and wipes her hands off on the front of her apron.

“I think… she might be the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

Rinka half-expects Mao to interrupt that with  _ ‘what about me? _ ,’ but she just sits there and listens.

“She’s a lot of fun to be around. And she makes me laugh. It’s mostly her delivery, though.”

For lack of anything to do with herself, Rinka plays with a frayed thread on her apron, making a mental note to cut it off later.

“She was more talkative after we met you and Naomi at the bar. It was just… like she wasn’t really saying anything important, but I never felt disinterested. I just really enjoy listening to her speak. And she’s so, so  _ cute _ .”

Rinka freezes, her eyes going wide. She’d gotten too caught up in the truth to factor in what she was saying. She doesn’t want to look at Mao and see a negative reaction. Her stomach begins to twist. She stops herself, taking a deep breath. If Mao had a problem with Rinka saying that, she probably would have said something. But she doesn’t. Rinka continues with this in mind.

“I mean cute doesn’t even cut it. She’s beautiful. And she’s a lot smarter than me, I can tell that much.”

 

Mao chuckles, the first she’s reacted since Rinka began. “It doesn’t take a lot of effort to achieve that. But you have your merits, and we love you all the same.”

 

Rinka finds herself at a loss for words. It feels good to hear Mao say that, even if it did sort of come with an insult. It felt more than just good though. It felt like acceptance. Rinka smiles. She knows she’s still going to have to come out officially, but she feels more confident. Something in what Mao said, her words, her cadence, it just told Rinka what she needed to hear. She can do this. She just needs to find the right words and a little more determination.

 

She glances out the window. There’s not a lot of foot traffic on this bleary day. The steady pattering of raindrops on the pavement seems to be the only constant beyond their cosy den. It’s peaceful.

“You know,” she begins, “if you hadn’t been there to introduce us, I probably would have been too intimidated to ever speak to someone like her.”

 

“Don’t mention it, Rinny.” Mao says it sincerely. There isn’t the familiar overture to playfulness composed along her words. This is a new, surprising side to Mao, but it isn’t unwelcome. It feels special to be here for this. She relaxes back into her seat and stirs her iced latte with its straw. “You’re both great friends of mine, and I’ve known you both forever. I just want you two to be happy.”

Rinka’s confused, because she’s certain Miharu’s a friend from Mao’s university. Not someone from before. That would more than likely place Miharu at  _ their  _ high school, which would mean that Rinka  _ should  _ know her, but-

 

She’s about to ask about it when the bell to alert her to a new customer dings. The thought is discarded as Rinka’s heart leaps for joy at the sight of Miharu. “Welcome to Lion House,” she calls cheerfully.

 

“Yay. Miharun’s here.” Mao pulls a chair from a nearby table closer with her foot. She waits for Miharu to place her umbrella in the stand by the door and then waves her over. “Come sit with me.”

 

“Are we in the way?” Miharu asks, taking the proffered seat. She smiles at Rinka, though she appears clearly uncomfortable with sitting in front of the coffee bar.

 

“You’re fine. We’re never busy on rainy days.”

If it weren’t for the weather, Rinka would have made Mao sit at their usual table by the window, out of the way of paying customers. But since there isn’t going to be much business today anyway, Rinka doesn’t mind their sitting at the bar. It means she can be a part of the conversation too.

“Did you find the place okay?”

This is only a conversation starter. Mao’s actually pretty good at giving directions, unlike Rinka who somehow managed to get Naomi so lost on her first visit over it took Rinka meeting her at a nearby park to get things sorted out.

 

“I did. It wasn’t hard to find.” Miharu glances at Mao, who returns her look with a curt nod.

 

“That’s good.”

Rinka finds herself wondering if Miharu’s hair is dyed like Mao’s, or if she’s more like Rinka who has distant European ancestry. Her thoughts begin to spiral until it occurs to her that both of her friends are staring back at her.

“Do you want a drink or something?” Rinka blurts to fill the space. She’s internally chastising herself even as the words are still warm on her lips. “On the house,” she adds, her voice strained.

 

Mao’s head snaps to attention. “Why do you never want to give  _ me _ anything for free?”

 

“Because you’re here every day,” Rinka grumbles back. Miharu giggles at this, which draws a smile out of her.

 

“To answer your question, a black coffee would be nice,” Miharu says quietly.

 

Rinka nods and gets to work, preparing the siphon before placing the flask on an alcohol lamp. She expertly maneuvers around the bar, grabbing a coffee cup to wash in the sink and placing unused utensils back in their rightful places, while never really straying far from the task at hand. Her movements are precise, effortless. Rinka has been doing this since she was sixteen, and the one thing that has been ingrained in her is a devotion to doing the job right. She’s focused, never getting overconfident despite the fact that she could very well do this job with her eyes closed. She finishes a few of her other duties just as the fragrant aroma of fresh coffee fills the air. It isn’t until she begins to pour the beverage into its prepared cup that she notices Miharu is watching her intently, an unrestricted smile gracing her lips.

 

Rinka’s face feels hot. She can’t help but wonder what Miharu’s thinking, how she’s feeling. Probably not the same way that Rinka feels in her presence, which begs the question - is her youthful heart moving too fast? Her small crushes from before don’t compare to the way she feels now, and because Rinka has no experience in relationship things - gay or straight - she isn’t sure what’s normal. She would hate to think she’s being a creep, but she can’t deny the way Miharu sets her spirit ablaze, ignites within her a powerful yearning. And yet, there’s always this subtle familiarity. Like Miharu’s someone she’s supposed to know. Maybe in the vast aether of the universe their souls crossed paths. But… could she have forgotten? Rinka still doesn’t think so. There’s that thing that Mao said earlier, about having known Miharu for a long time, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that Rinka would also know her. They could have met under different circumstances than at school. Not to mention, she has no memory of Miharu, and she can’t bear to imagine the empty, lonesome space that losing her would leave in Rinka’s chest. Besides, Mao or Miharu would have corrected her by now… Right?

 

“Here you go,” Rinka says as she carefully places the cup of coffee in front of Miharu. “I hope you like it.” She’s fairly confident in her brewing abilities, but she’s still a bit nervous for the other girl to judge her craft. Her customers never complain, but then again, most of them are regulars who are probably entranced enough by the homey atmosphere to keep coming anyway. She can’t take her friends’ reactions to heart either, because Naomi’s the type to compliment her even if it did taste terrible, and Mao doesn’t like anything bitter if it’s not diluted with a worrying amount of sugar first. Rinka gulps, watching as her newest patron brings the porcelain cup to her lips.

 

“It’s good,” Miharu says after a sip. “There’s something sort of distinct to it though.” She chews her lip thoughtfully before continuing, “I think I’d be able to tell if a cup of coffee was brewed by you versus someone else.”

 

“Thank you.” Rinka says meekly. She wrings her hands together, looking away from Miharu. Receiving compliments has never been so hard for her.

 

“I don’t know why you coffee drinkers always think you can pick up on the beans or the method or whatever little nuances there are in a drink,” Mao says as she adds even more syrup to her iced latte. “It’s all the same to me.”

 

It’s hard to take Mao seriously when her drinks don’t even resemble coffee by the time she’s done manipulating them, but she’s probably right to say that there really isn’t such a noticeable difference from cup to cup. Still, Rinka puts her all into her work, so Miharu’s words are nice to hear even if she finds them hard to believe.

 

“Call me a wishful thinker then,” Miharu says. She takes another sip of her coffee, eyeing Rinka over the cup.

 

“Are you guys hungry?” Rinka barely manages not to stumble over her words. Once more she finds herself trying not to look directly at Miharu, lest she get nervous and embarrass herself in her own domain. “I’m going to have to clean the oven, and that takes a while, so if you guys want lunch or anything I should cook it now.”

 

“I don’t want to impose,” Miharu begins to say, but Mao’s quick to talk over her.

 

“The Queen demands a sandwich!” Mao looks smug as she says this. She doesn’t mean it to be disrespectful or anything. Everyone who knows her knows she’s just joking, and they also know that she’s just the type to act as though her ego is heavily inflated. In truth, Mao has a heart of gold. She just isn’t as brazen or reckless as Rinka is, and she’s not like Naomi who overextends her hand to others on the surface. No, everything Mao does is hidden behind a veiled façade of narcissism. Her good deeds are subtle, sometimes going entirely unnoticed.

 

Rinka feels like she should think something of that. The spark of an idea is there, but she fails to connect it to anything.

 

“Then, I wouldn’t mind the same.” Miharu hides her mouth behind her cup, but Rinka can detect the faintest traces of a smile.

 

She wishes Miharu’s cup wasn’t in the way, because she finds warmth in that expression. Miharu radiates a certain fragile, hesitant light that needs protecting. Rinka wants to be the person to do that, to nurture that brilliance and help it grow.

 

“I’ll get started on it.” Rinka makes her way through the open doorway into the back room where the kitchen is. From where she’s standing, she can see that Miharu and Mao are still watching her from the coffee bar. They’re talking amongst themselves, but both sets of eyes are trained on her. Rinka wonders what they’re talking about, and if it would maybe be less awkward if she closed the heavy kitchen door, but she decides that it would no longer be hanging out with her friends at work if she were to separate herself from them entirely. Then it would just be, well, work.

 

Rinka puts their private conversation out of her mind and walks over to the refrigerator to check what ingredients she has to work with today. Suddenly she’s glad there were no special orders, because she’s apparently neglected to stock up on supplies at some point. She’ll have to sit down later and take inventory.

 

For now, she gathers the ingredients to cook a Tonkatsu sandwich for herself and Chicken Katsu sandwiches for Miharu and Mao. She cleans the meats before cutting them with the Sogi-giri technique her grandmother taught her. Using a knife is second nature to her now, but Rinka fondly recalls when she first started helping out around Lion House. She was so nervous using a knife that it took her an entire minute to get through slicing a single vegetable.  _ I’ve come a long way since then,  _ she thinks, feeling a surge of inspiration at her own progress.  _ I wouldn’t mind if this is the sort of thing I’m meant to do with my life. _

 

Rinka separates the meats into three bowls and seasons them with various spices and a small amount of sake. When she’s done with that, she heads over to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. She takes extra care to make sure they’re clean after handling raw meat.

 

_ Everything needs to sit and marinate for a while. I guess I could make myself a coffee while I wait. I wouldn’t mind sitting down with Miharu and Mao for a bit either. _

 

She turns off the sink and dries her hands on a tea towel hanging over the sink before returning to the  café proper.

 

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Mao asks as Rinka prepares to brew her cup.

 

“I’m probably going to close early.” Rinka has to stifle her excitement. It sounds like they’re making plans, but she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

 

“I don’t know. We should do something though.” Mao rests her chin on her hand, her head tilted so she can look at Miharu. “What about you? Are you going to come with?”

 

“I’d like that.” Miharu glances at Rinka, but looks away when their eyes meet. “I was lucky enough to get the day off from work, and I don’t have to go to any of my classes tomorrow, so I can stay out for as long as I want to.”

 

“Gotcha.” Mao hums one long, monotonous note. She shrugs. “We could go back to that bar and have a drink or two. The weather’s too bad for us to do anything really fun, but just sitting around and talking might be nice.”

 

“That’s fine with me.” Rinka doesn’t know why they can’t just hang out here instead. If she asked, Mao would probably just make up something about how going out makes it more fun, so she doesn’t bother. It’s not that she really cares one way or another, but Miharu didn’t drink at all on her birthday. She just isn’t sure if Miharu’s going to have a good time, but Mao knows her better so she doesn’t say anything.

 

Miharu clears her throat before she speaks. “Very well. I will go wherever Rinka is.”

 

The words jolt Rinka, causing her to narrowly miss pouring coffee all over the counter rather than into her cup. She’s glad her back is turned to them right now, because she’s certain her cheeks are flushed red. Rinka doesn’t want to hope too hard that the statement meant anything though.

 

“Guess I should hurry and clean the place so we can get going,” she says, her voice strained. Rinka sets her coffee cup onto a saucer and walks back into the kitchen. It’s still too hot to drink, so she sets the coffee onto a free counter away from the stove. She doesn’t want to look and see if her friends are watching her, doesn’t even want to entertain the thought that they can see how flustered she is right now. She washes her hands again, and then sets about finishing her preparation of their meal.

 

The meats are each breaded with panko and then put aside once more while Rinka heats oil in a skillet. While she waits for that, she prepares a wire rack to set everything on when it’s done frying. It’ll be more for her to clean later, but her grandmother always says, “You’re a pro the moment you enter the kitchen.” So, everything has to be done by the book… even if there  _ are _ a few shortcuts she could take to make her job easier. Anyway, she’d much rather go with the tried and true method to assure maximum success in impressing Miharu.

 

Rinka uses a thermometer to check the temperature of the oil. When it’s just right, she places the chicken into the skillet with tongs, gritting her teeth whenever a rogue splatter of oil stings her. One by one she fries the meats, fishing out any panko crumbs that have fallen into the oil between batches, and setting the finished product on the wire rack to allow any excess liquid to drain away. When she’s finished with that, she thoroughly washes the vegetables she’s going to be using. Her stomach begins to growl as she thinly slices her way through a tomato, eager to enjoy the fruits of her labour.

 

Rinka takes a step back to wipe her forehead on the back of her arm. It’s hot in the kitchen. She probably smells like sweat and fried food, but it’s worthwhile if she can make something others will enjoy. She catches Miharu looking in her direction and feels flustered all over again. Throwing herself into her work seems to do the trick, so Rinka picks up her knife again and grabs the cucumber she’d retrieved earlier. Slicing through it feels oddly satisfying; the way the recently sharpened knife makes easy work of the vegetable gives her a sense of control in the kitchen. Not that Rinka has a complex or anything, but after having entire years stripped from her memory, it’s hard not to enjoy the feeling.

 

Once that’s done, she reaches for the sheets of lettuce she’d separated earlier. They’re still a bit damp from when she washed them, so she pats them dry with a paper towel. Surrounded by her prepared ingredients, Rinka carefully builds the sandwiches on slices of homemade bread. When she feels that they’re complete, she cuts them in half and stacks them each on their own plates. Her presentation is pretty good if she does say so herself.

 

“It’s ready,” she calls as she balances two of the plates on one arm and carries the other in her free hand. Instead of setting the food down at the coffee bar where Mao and Miharu are sitting, she walks over to their usual table. It has a nicer view, and they’ll have more space than the cluttered coffee bar can offer. After putting everything down, she realises that she’d left her coffee behind. Rinka turns on her heel to march back into the kitchen, colliding head on with somebody instead.

 

“Sorry!” Miharu grabs Rinka by the shoulders, steadying her before she has the chance to trip up in her rush to back away. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”

 

It takes Rinka a few seconds to clear away the fog of confusion, but she finally realises what’s happened. “No, it’s okay. It was totally my fault.” Miharu’s hands are still on her shoulders. The sensation still makes her legs wobbly, still makes her feel like she’s going to melt.

 

Apparently Miharu can tell her knees are weak, because after a moment of trepidation she places a hand on the side of Rinka’s face and tilts her head upwards. It looks like she’s trying to check for a concussion, but that’s silly because there’s no way they even bumped into each other that hard. “Your face is burning up. Do you feel okay?”

 

Unfortunately, Rinka is speechless. Her brain has short-circuited from the shock of being so close to Miharu that she can’t seem to form words. She should know to shake herself out of this trance of hers. They’re not the only two in the room, after all.

 

“Let me see,” Mao says, wedging herself between the pair. Wordlessly she pinches Rinka’s cheek.  _ Hard _ .

 

“Ouch!  _ Mao _ !” She recoils, finally back in control of her facilities. A small - very small - part of her is thankful for the intervention.

 

“She’s fine.” Mao sits down and pulls one of the plates towards her. “It’s a good thing you finished so quickly. I was getting ready to gnaw  _ someone’s _ arm off,” she says, ignoring Miharu’s glare.

 

“I hope you like it.” Rinka steps around Miharu and walks back to get her coffee, her eyes focused on the floorboards. When she’s alone in the kitchen, she touches her face where Miharu’s hand had just been. It was embarrassing to go braindead all of a sudden, more so to need Mao’s brutal assistance in snapping herself back to reality, but Miharu… Rinka sighs dreamily, grinning to herself until she spots her coffee waiting for her.  _ Oh, right. I probably shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.  _ She grabs her drink and some napkins before returning to the table.

 

She’s surprised to see that they waited for her to start. When she sits down, she catches a furtive glance from Miharu. Regardless of where her feelings lie, she’s probably just as embarrassed as Rinka is.

 

Luckily, they have Mao there to break the tension. “All right! Time to dig in!” She picks up the sandwich in front of her and chomps into it. Mao’s had Rinka’s food before, so the satisfied moan of approval that escapes her after all this time is appreciated.

 

Rinka begins to eat as well, trying hard to look only at her plate. The last thing she needs is to make Miharu more uncomfortable by catching her in the middle of a bite. Though, she is curious as to whether or not she’ll get Miharu’s seal of approval.

 

Her answer comes when Miharu finally speaks. “It’s really good.” At that point, Rinka can’t help but look up at her. Miharu is smiling as she dabs at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t usually eat fried foods, but it’s delicious. I’d love to have more of anything you’re willing to cook for me.”

 

Rinka’s speechless. She swells with pride at the compliment, but more than that, she feels a fluttering sensation - a growing affection for Miharu that fills her chest. She wants to say something, anything, but the appreciation she feels is too great for her to convey.

 

“Yeah, Rinny’s a good cook,” Mao says instead, interrupting a moment that Rinka had selfishly been coveting as  _ theirs _ . “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your sandwich is different from ours, by the way. I wanna try.” And with that, Mao leans forward and takes a huge bite out of the sandwich in Rinka’s hands. She chews thoughtfully for a moment, and then an uncharacteristic look of despair washes over her face. “I’m sorry,” she says through a mouth full of food. Mao struggles to swallow and then, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

 

Rinka isn’t sure what she’s apologising for. Mao  _ always _ does stuff like that, and Rinka has never put up much of a fight before. So why is it such a big deal now? Is Mao sick or something? “It’s… okay?” Rinka says, still confused.

 

She looks over to Miharu to see if she’s just as confused, but Miharu has a serious look right now. Her jaw is set grimly, and Rinka isn’t sure what that’s about. Maybe having Mao talking with her mouth full right next to her bothered her.

 

After their lunch, Rinka gets back to cleaning. Even though she’s excited to spend more time with Miharu, she doesn’t let that distract from her purpose. Everything she does, she puts her all into. That’s just the kind of person she is. So by the time she finishes, it’s beginning to get dark.

 

“I’m sorry for making you guys wait so long,” Rinka says over her shoulder as she locks the front door. She’d insisted several times that Mao and Miharu should go do something else and meet up with her when she was done with her work, but neither of them seem annoyed about having to wait a few hours for her. It probably helps that she pampered them with free pastries and coffee while she cleaned.

 

“Hey, it’s no problem. This is the usual time for people to start hitting up bars anyway.” Mao nudges her and then walks ahead, one hand curled around the strap of her handbag, the other speedily moving across her phone’s screen. They’re lucky that the rain has since stopped. Now, murky puddles line the pavement, and a sticky gloom hangs in the air.

 

_ It still beats walking in the rain… Though I kind of like the idea of having to squeeze in close with Miharu under an umbrella. _

 

Just as she thinks this, Miharu falls into step beside her. “I didn’t mind the wait either,” she says, her voice soft, like it’s just meant for Rinka’s ears. “I like watching you work.”

 

Rinka chuckles. Her face feels warm, even though she doesn’t understand what was meant by it. “I was just cleaning. What’s so special about that?”

 

“You were cute, for one thing.”

 

“C-Cute?” Rinka tries to swallow past the lump in her throat. She watches Mao ahead of them, wondering if she’d heard that too, and what she thinks of it.  _ It can easily be explained away, right? There doesn’t have to be any hidden meaning behind it. I’m short.  _ Everyone _ is always saying I either look mean or cute. I doubt she means anything else by it. So, just ignore what she said and- _

 

Rinka’s mind is running at a mile a minute, but it’s what Miharu says next that derails her train of thought entirely.

 

“You know, I love a girl with dedication.”

 

“W-What?”


End file.
